


showtime!

by rose02



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Reddie, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, a lil sad, but it's mostly fluff, deaf!eddie, movie theater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose02/pseuds/rose02
Summary: Based off of a prompt by adhdnoravalkyrie:“i work at a movie theatre and i’m cleaning up after the movie is over and you’re the only person left because you’re ugly crying with popcorn over your lap” AU





	showtime!

**Author's Note:**

> whooooo a oneshot
> 
> let me know if you want a sequel!
> 
> -
> 
> follow this piece of poo on tumblr @r-u-reddie

Richie walked into the theater with a sigh, his broom and pan in hand. 

 

He saw that the previous movie’s credits were still playing, the room completely empty. It seemed that the lights weren’t completely on, so the rows of seats were bathed in the technicolor light of the big screen. It was almost serene, in a way, until he saw the trash that littered the floor.

 

Richie snarled at the kernels of popcorn scattered across the aisle and began to sweep. 

 

About three months ago, Richie decided that working at the local  _ Aladdin  _ theater would be a fun way to make money during his senior year. His expectations were that he could sit up in the booth, relaxing, watching cool movies, and occasionally having to pick up a few empty soda cups.

 

_ ‘If only,’  _ Richie thought bitterly to himself, finding a wad of chewed gum stashed under one of the seats.

 

Richie was just about to move down to the next row, when he heard the loud  _ BRMMMFFFF  _ of someone blowing their nose from the very top of the theater.

 

Richie jumped and exclaimed, “ _ Jesus! _ Did someone let loose an elephant in here or something?”

 

He scanned the room and saw an indistinguishable figure at the top. Richie adjusted his glasses and he began to walk up the stairs when he heard no response.

 

“Hey, bud, I promise nothing incredibly interesting happens in these next 45 seconds of credits.” Richie joked with a grin, letting it fall when there was no sign that the person heard him.

 

Richie walked until he was one row in front of where the figure was, and he was fairly certain it was a boy. A pretty short boy, by the looks of it. The guy seemed to have brownish hair, but other than that, Richie really couldn’t tell because the dude’s face was in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

 

“Man, are you ok? I didn’t know that  _ The Greatest Showman  _ was this much of a tear jerker.”

 

No response.

 

At this point, Richie started to get a little on edge, so he did what any other reasonable, almost-adult would do.

 

Richie jabbed the dude right in the side with his finger. 

 

The boy squealed and almost jumped out of his seat. He whipped his head in Richie’s direction and glared. 

 

_ ‘Holy fuck, that’s a nice face. _ ’ Richie thought as a stupid smile crept on his face. The boy had big, brown, doe eyes that were now rimmed with red, a little button nose with freckles scattered across it. His lips were bunched into a pout and his eyebrows were furrowed. ‘ _ Why does he look so mad?’ _

 

“What the fuck, dude?” The boy asked, wiping away his past tears, with a really strange pronunciation to his speech.

 

“You’re ‘what the fuck’-ing me?! I’ve been basically yelling at you for the past 30 seconds, trying to get your attention!” Richie retorted, throwing his hands in the air.

 

The boy looked like he was trying to figure something out for a second, staring at Richie’s face.

 

“Can you repeat what you just said, but  _ really _ slowly?” The boy said, with that kind of warbled articulation.

 

_ ‘Why?’  _ Richie thought, utterly confused.

 

Then, Richie remembered what version of  _ The Greatest Showman _ was playing today. The captioned version that the theater played at specific showings.

 

_ ‘Oh, shit.’ _

 

_ “ _ Oh, fuck! Dude, I’m so sorry! I’m so stupid and- ugh, I forgot which version was playing today and-“

 

“Do you realize that I can’t hear anything that you’re saying right now?”

 

Richie paused and looked at the boy’s confused face. ‘ _ Oh, yeah. Can’t actually hear me. Good going.’ _

 

So, Richie did the next best thing he could do to try and communicate with this dude.

 

Act it out.

 

“I’m-“ points to self, “so sorry-“ makes a sad face, “because I forgot-“ whacks self in head, “what kind of movie-“ rolling film hand motion, “was playing today.” Jazz hands.

 

The boy was clearly trying hard not to laugh. “It’s okay, you don’t need to mime it out for me. I can read lips pretty well, as long as you speak clear and slow. Although, I have to admit, that was very entertaining.” 

 

Richie grinned and bowed. 

 

“Hey, you go to Derry High, right? I’ve seen you around.” The boy stated, “I’m Eddie Kaspbrak, by the way.”

 

Richie felt a deep sinking feeling in his stomach. He’d heard that name before.

 

_ Richie was finishing up his assignment when he heard the two boys talking. _

 

_ “Hey, Henry, guess who I am? ‘Whut? Whut? I can’t heeeaar you… Can yooou repeat thaaat, slooooowly?’” Patrick mocked, crossing his eyes and adding a strange articulation and cadence to his voice. _

 

_ Richie sat confused, watching as Henry Bowers threw his head back, laughing.  _

 

_ “Holy shit, that was perfect. We’ll have to give a little visit to our favorite Eddie Kaspbrak, so you can show off your impression skills.” _

 

_ Richie’s stomach churned, not knowing who “Eddie” was, but sympathizing for him. He knew how it felt to be on the wrong side of Bowers’ fist. _

 

Richie flinched at the memory, but tried to keep his composure.

 

He gave Eddie a pained smile. “I’m Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier, at your service, and yeah, I’m a senior.” He said, trying to move his mouth as clearly as possible and giving a little salute. Eddie giggled.

 

“Now, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you crying during the credits?” Richie inquired, making an effort to speak slowly and deliberately.

 

Eddie wrinkled his nose and he exclaimed, “It was just so emotional at the end, you’d have to be heartless not to cry.” 

 

“During the credits?”

 

“No, you dumbass, in the last scene!” Eddie’s face scrunched up as he laughed, and as Richie watched him, he didn’t understand how Bowers could be so cruel to make fun of someone so cute.

 

“Then why are you still here, Eds?” Richie asked, raising his eyebrows.

 

Even in the dim light of the theater, Richie could see his blush creep up his neck.

 

“I was just thinking about the movie. With my tears. And did you just call me  _ Eds _ ?”

 

Richie could tell that Eddie was holding back a smile, and that might’ve been the final push.

 

“Absolutely. Listen, my shift is over in about, say, twenty minutes? How about I make up for scaring the shit out of you by getting you ice cream?”

 

Eddie smiled wide and answered, “I think I’d like that, Trashmouth.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
